


Eat Your Vegetables

by Farfalla



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-01
Updated: 2003-04-01
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farfalla/pseuds/Farfalla
Summary: Our Captains visit a deli (post-VH).





	Eat Your Vegetables

"Are you certain that this restaurant will provide a vegetarian alternative," asked Captain Spock, "since I am incapable of enjoying the piles of processed animal meat so many of the patrons seem to be eating?"

Captain James T. Kirk smiled and led his friend to a table. "Spock. A deli has more to offer than just overstuffed sandwiches."

"I hope there will be more on the menu for me than just salad. The mental processes alone related to these negotiations burn a substantial amount of calories."

Jim slid into a booth and motioned for Spock to take the other side. "Here, you can look at a menu if you don't believe me. Potato salad, fried zucchini... they probably have some kind of stuffed potato if you're interested..."

Spock took the menu from Jim's hand and studied it. "Jim, have you decided what you are ordering?"

Jim grinned. "What, are you looking for ideas?"

"I had thought that we might..." Spock trailed off, staring across the table. He seemed frozen, transfixed.

"Spock? What's the matter?" Jim followed Spock's gaze to the wall edge of the booth, where a bread basket and some other assorted complimentary snacks characteristic of a New York Deli reposed.

"Jim, what.... are _those_?" Spock asked, furrowing his brow.

Jim inspected the items. He couldn't be asking about the bread basket, and he certainly knew what pickles were. What was this behind the pickles?

Spock shuddered when Jim retrieved a small jar from its hiding place and placed it in the center of the table. It was packed to the top with pastel green globes squishing slightly against each other, their surfaces covered with a fine tracery of pale yellow veins. "You mean these?" Jim asked, even though he could already tell the answer from his friend's face.

"Precisely, Captain. They are..." Spock paused, staring at the small, floating, green objects. "...painfully reminiscent of part of the Vulcan anatomy."

"They're just pickled tomatoes, Spock," Jim winked. He started unscrewing the jar leisurely.

"Tomatoes... _green_ tomatoes?" Spock was turning a little green himself.

"There are a lot of old Earth recipes that use unripe tomatoes," explained Jim. He removed the jar lid and placed it off to the side.

"It is wise not to waste them if the growing season is ending," Spock said, trying not to think about the parts of his own body that resembled the food on the table in front of him.

Jim nodded. "Yes, Spock. Very wise." Not taking his eyes off the Vulcan's face, he slowly dipped two fingers into the jar and tried to capture one of the tomatoes. They bobbed around clumsily in the brine for a few moments until he managed to snag one. He pulled it, dripping, out of the salty spiced water.

Spock studied him wordlessly from across the table. Jim was the only being in creation that would have been able to tell that he was affected at all by what was going on, and the mischievous human's actions were fed by the knowledge of this.

Jim lifted the pickled green tomato to his mouth and let some of the salty liquid dripping from it fall upon his waiting tongue. He felt the echo of a small telepathic shiver, and it only encouraged him. To the rest of the room, Spock was still the same immovable Vulcan Starfleet Captain, regal and respected in his crisp red jacket and gold insignia. He reveled in the fact that the fire he was about to light would only be visible to himself...

Jim coyly stuck out just the tip of his tongue and began to lick the tomato. He started slowly, and then quickened the pace to match the pulses he was sensing from Spock across the table. He began to use more tongue, rather lapping now instead of just licking, using broad strokes like a lion cleaning his paws. He was now fully turned on by the effect he knew he was having on Spock, and it made him feel thoroughly loved that he knew Spock could turn away from the sight at any time-- and did not.

Eyes locked with his Vulcan, Jim opened his lips more and let the tomato slip completely into his energetic mouth. If Spock had been all human, he would have sighed. Jim valued the mental ripples he was receiving infinitely more. The tomato slid out again just as easily, and he placed it on his napkin gracefully. Something else had caught his eye among the complimentary snacks.

When Spock saw him reach for one of the big half-sour pickles, it took every Vulcan gene in his body not to react in _some_ way, at least to laugh! But that would spoil the game... or attract attention...

Jim made a big show out of "inspecting" the pickles before he found one that he was satisfied with. Pleased with himself once he located the perfect one, he picked it up and brought it to his mouth. He teased the tip of one end with his lips, occasionally letting his tongue dart out across the taut green surface.

"Are you gentlemen ready to order?" Where had that waitress come from?

Startled, Kirk dropped the pickle straight into his water glass. "Uh, no, I think we'll need a little more time." He twisted his wedding ring around his finger idly.

The waitress eyed the glass, then Kirk, before picking it up to replace with a fresh one. "Say... aren't you Captain Kirk? Of the Starship Enterprise?"

Kirk flashed her a big, flashy smile. "That's me," he beamed. "And I'm sure you also recognize--"

"Captain Spock!! Of course." The waitress's eyes fluttered like butterflies on speed. "You know what, guys? Your meal's on the house. It's not every day we get folks in here who've saved the world." She winked at Spock, and he nodded courteously in return.

"Hey, I know this is presumptuous of me," the waitress continued, "but do you think I could get your autographs? I mean, this is really exciting for me..." She couldn't have been more than seventeen.

"Abso-lutely, Genevieve!" Kirk exclaimed, squinting at her nametag. She glowed and handed him her pen.

As he wrote a message of goodwill across a napkin, she started to clear away the tomato that he had deposited on the other napkin only moments earlier. He stopped her arm with his hand. "No... no, Genevieve, it's okay, we're-- I'm not quite through with that yet."


End file.
